


playing hooky

by valiidpunkman



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Peer Pressure, Skinny Dipping, Teasing, soft Billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:49:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiidpunkman/pseuds/valiidpunkman
Summary: Billy ditches class with a girl that doesn’t know how to have fun.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Reader, Billy Hargrove/You
Kudos: 58





	playing hooky

You _swore_ that you knew better than this.

You’d like to think you were raised right and had enough self respect to not fall under peer pressure like everybody else always did in cheesy high school movies or real life. Maybe right now you’re about to ditch the so-called ‘good girl’ philosophy, or handbook or whatever the fuck it was, to be free from the constraints that high school labels always puts on girls like you. Those bullshit stereotypes about smart girls that actually care about grades and education, saying that they’re all just bummers with no experience that will never learn how to let loose. Well, you’re through with all of it. It felt as if there had always been this hidden lingering temptation that was just itching to be unleashed, it just needed the right push, from the right somebody.

When the very chief, cliché bad boy Billy Hargrove himself approached you himself in the halls on a regular soul-crushing Monday, you wanted to prove not only to him but also to yourself that you were not this cookie cutter mold of a person. You were just as capable of crazy as anybody else is. So fuck him for underestimating you, and double fuck him if he was gonna laugh in your face when you said so.

“Of course I know what it’s like to have fun,” you defend, pointing your finger at him for emphasis at the arrogant blonde that had been ridiculing you far too long during passing periods at school everyday. He went further than usual today in particular, calling you ‘Plain Jane’ and ‘sugarpuss’ just to get a rise out of you, unknowingly setting off the ticking time bomb. “In fact, I’m the one who fucking _invented_ fun, asshole.”

Billy widens his eyes comically as he takes the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and puts it between his lips.

“So, little kitten does have some scratch in her, doesn’t she? Who would’ve known,” he asks rhetorically, sarcasm lacing his tone as his fingers work to drag a little red match across the matchbox. Just as he was about to burn up with the audacity to smoke inside, at school for Christ’s sake, Mr. Jameson from wood workshop snags it from Billy’s mouth as he passes by you both in the hallway.

“No smoking inside, Hargrove!”  
Billy turns his head with attitude to the teacher that just walked away with one of his precious cigarettes. How could he be that surprised of the consequences, you had no idea how thick his skull really was.

“I still have another one in my pocket you know!” he calls out, taking out the mentioned extra pack he kept in his jacket pocket as he shouted obnoxiously across the hall, catching the attention of everyone else scrambling to get to class.

“Lung cancer can wait another day!” Mr. Jameson reprimands the teen, pausing at the door of his destined classroom. “Get to class, Hargrove. And leave the poor girl alone,” Jameson pities you, probably wondering just what the fuck a girl like you, the polar opposite of Billy, was doing chatting and wasting time with him in the hallway.

“Yeah? I’m shaking in my boots over here, Mister J. And she could leave if she wants to, she’s a big girl,” he says, eyeing you as the words leave his mouth. You’d been impatiently standing there, somewhat annoyed yet entertained by the exchange with a tight lipped smile, still holding your usual boat load of books. Billy can see that you’re pissed because you think he’s misjudged you, but for _fuck_ sake, it’s like you don’t even know that there are lockers at school for a reason. You’re practically begging to get made fun of, and Billy’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the bait, see where it leads him. Maybe you’ll surprise him, or maybe he’ll surprise you.

“You done flirting with school staff?” you raise your brows, pointing your thumb back towards Jameson’s classroom. Billy chuckles at your wit, eyes glazing down your fitted schoolgirl-esque sweater, daring to guess what’s hidden underneath it. As well as what’s really under your carefully crafted bitchy persona. It’s so easy to get you kicking and screaming, he plans on using that to persuade you further to him.

“Are _you?_ Don’t think I can’t see the way you looked at ‘em, batting those cute little eyelashes, maybe even bending over in class to—“  
You stop him from going further into his detailed imagery with a gag noise spewing from your lips and a hand raised to get him to please shut up already. 

“Okay, gross. I used to be best friends with his daughter in middle school.”

Billy chuckles at that, then continues on with his weird ass fantasy. “Makes you a dirty bird then, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off. You’re disgusting,” you step closer into his personal space bubble, shoving one of your books into his chest resulting in him pretending it hurt like a drama queen. After another roll of your eyes, he’s satisfied with how much he’s annoyed you then wants to remind you of what he’d asked.

“You never did answer me, you know.”

“About what, genius?” you fix your hair, fidgeting under the pressure of his earlier proposition. You’d hoped he had forgotten he even asked and move on to pull the pigtails of the next girl that strolled by. Clearly he hadn’t, to your dismay.

“‘Bout you playing a little hooky, comin’ with me. Get to see how the other half lives,” he offers, pulling yet another item out of his pocket, and of course it’s a toothpick. He always needed something in his mouth when he’s talking to you.

“Where would we even go?”  
He plays with the toothpick in his teeth, flicking his tongue over the stick before answering. 

“Anywhere. Wherever you want. But if you can’t think of somethin’ to do, I have my usual hiding spots. No one would find us.”

This is the part where the cartoon devil and angel on your shoulder fight, the good side of you worried about what trouble he’d be dragging you into. The bad side tells you that it’s about damn time you do something out of the ordinary, something you’re not supposed to. This time, for the very first time in your life, the devil won.

“Fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not going ‘cause I wanna be your little girlfriend or whatever, this is just because I’m bored, and… and I _do_ know how to have fun,” you declare, staring at your clean Converse as your palms start to sweat from nerves. Just what the fuck are you getting yourself into? It’s _your_ grave that you’re digging here. But why would anybody pass this opportunity up? The only lame excuse you could come up with for the imaginary angel shaking it’s head in disapproval for being defeated was that he was as hot as he was charming, and you felt like you’d been held at gunpoint to resist. You were weak, and you can admit it now. So fuck you if you can’t break bad for once.

Billy licks his lips in triumph, grinning like he finally caught the mouse that had been eyeing the peanut butter in the trap far too long, and had just now decided to take a lick and get sucked in.

“Well alright, little lady. Glad to hear it. Your chariot awaits outside,” he jingles his keys with his fingers, not waiting any longer as he eagerly struts out of the building, with you meekly trailing not far behind him.

—

Billy knew he’d get you to crack. Delighted that he’d get to pop your skipping class cherry, he unlocked his Camaro and even took the time to open the passenger’s door for you. After looking at him in disbelief for a beat, he raises his brows and beckons you further to get in. Something akin to a strange man telling you to get in the car, with a promised bribe of candy and puppies.  
“What was it you said back there, that you invented fun? C’mon, think of it as an adventure, like in all those books you read or whatever.”

Yeah, in all those books you read with circumstances like these, something stupid always happens. You’re still on the edge of willing to take that chance, with the voice of every adult that’s every lectured you to not go out with strange boys. Fuck it, maybe something good will come out of this.

You sigh in defeat, done fighting with yourself before giving the ground a shy smile, letting out a quiet “ _yeah, I guess._ ” Getting strapped in with your seatbelt, because safety first, you tightly clutch the several books that had stayed in your grasp like a vice. You’re still quite apprehensive, but there should be no problem in maybe needing a little more convincing. Billy feels like he won the lottery, hopping in and enthusiastically starting the engine up before zooming out of the school parking lot. He even tells you you can pick any music tape in his entire collection to play, which he almost never lets anybody do. However, you’d declined the playing of any music, stubbornly staring out the window at the views passing by. Billy is still determined to get you out of your comfort zone, and if music won’t do it, there must be some radical adventure you’d be excited for that will.

“How ‘bout a movie? You gotta like some genre. Everybody likes movies,” he tells you, still driving aimlessly with no destination in mind for the two of you yet.

“What kind’s your favorite?” Billy wonders aloud, seeing as though you could be a secret cult-loving, horror flick addict, or maybe even a hopeless romantic. He likes the idea of you snuggled up in the theatre munching on popcorn as you watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or maybe even Sixteen Candles. That would be a fucking sight to see.

“Uh, all of them. I like all movies.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout the new Ghostbusters? Heard it’s the next classic—“

“I don’t know anymore, Billy. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you overthink, chewing on your lip from the anxiety that had been eating you away. This is against the rules, and according to your routine, you should be in class right now. The whole idea of this ridiculous outing was just some heat of the moment, fortuitous decision that you’re beginning to regret right now.

Meanwhile, Billy makes a frustrated scoffing sound at you for already wanting to give the fun up. He could’ve easily been mistaken by the connection you two shared through your playful banter, now just passing it off as weak flirting which you clearly didn’t reciprocate.

“Fine. Let’s just go back to school then. Why not, right? Listen to the boring old fuck of a bogus dude like Jameson. He’ll probably scream at us ‘cause we’ll be fifteen minutes late, then the cherry on top being a pink slip to show your folks at home.” Billy had been looking over at you as he ranted, then back to the road to find a place to pull over. He’s already tired trying to make you comfortable when your mind was set on staying uncomfortable. “Your folks’ll _really_ love that. Wait ‘til they find out that I was the one that convinced you to come—“

“Shut the hell up, alright!” you finally snap, throwing your arms in the air and in turn making the tower of textbooks fall with a loud thunk to the floor. Billy is shocked at your outburst, now intently engaged in what you have to say. “You act like you know me, but you don’t, alright? Nobody does. Not my parents, not Jameson, and certainly not you either, pal.”

Billy calls bullshit on that one, letting out a menacing chuckle before judging you harder.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know you, yeah right. I think I really fuckin’ do, actually. You’re just some priss, yet another snobby little girl with a broken little heart, not to mention the _ginormous_ stick up her ass—“

“I do _not_ have a stick up my ass.”

“Do too.”

 _“Nuh-uh,_ assface!”

Billy sighs dramatically at the childish banter you’re still keeping up, now finding a lonely space where he can stop the car and really get under your skin, prove you wrong. Because he thinks he really does know your type. He kills the engine as he turns to you.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna prove me wrong? Why don’t you open the glovebox and take out what’s inside. Go on.” he instructed, looking to you and then the glove compartment expectedly. You try masking your hesitance with false confidence before going for it, pulling the lever open and finding what looks like a decent hand-held size bottle. Curious, you look closer and read the sticker on the front, observing the bronze liquid that’s filled a good halfway up. “If you know how to have fun, why don’tcha try taking a swig?” he nods to the bottle, biting his lip in excitement the show you’ll likely put on. He briefly worries for a moment that you’ll actually do it, but that thought is quickly stored away after seeing your reaction upon unscrewing the cap and sticking your tongue out in disgust at the heavy stench. Billy’s sure that there’s no way you had the balls, thinking this test will more likely prove his point that you’re all bark no bite. You regain your composure before speaking.

“Oh, I could so drink this. You’re making this way too easy, man.” Billy chuckles at your crass attempt at trying to sound cool to impress him.  
“What’s so funny, huh? Think I won’t?” you raise your voice defensively, gesturing to the swirl of what’s left in the bottle. Billy can’t hold in his revolting laughter anymore as he holds his stomach and slaps the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was some comedy gold right there. Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t know how bad I really needed that.”  
After sitting and listening to his whole schtick about how hilarious the idea of you misbehaving is, you’ve been riled up to the point of clenching your fists at your sides. Steam might as well be shooting out from your ears. Of course he’s exactly like the rest of them, the bullying, ridiculing, and constant underestimating.

“Oh yeah? Well if you don’t believe me, then…” you lick your lips, taunting him with a filthy, no-good glare as he grows weary under the tension, “ _Watch me._ ”

You’d taken the bottle and swallowed your pride, giving the finger to everyone who expected you to stay impossibly innocent forever, then gulped at least a mouthful from the bottle. It felt freakishly foreign and warm as it went down, settling deep down your belly and the aftertaste stinging your tastebuds. The bottle’s contents had diminished significantly from the dent you put in, and Billy can’t believe anything he’s seeing with his own two eyes. It’s the first time he’d been stunned to silence, with the late reaction of snatching the bottle away from you before you could poison yourself, or do more damage than what has already been done.

“You’ve — you gotta be _fucking_ kidding me! That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen,” he stumbles, furrowing his brows and throwing an arm in the air in utter disbelief, while his other holds the bottle like a baby, keeping it hidden away from you. “Holy shit, Y/N! I said a swig, not whatever you just did!” he scolds, eyes as wide and frightened like a goddamn cartoon.  
Meanwhile, you’d been coughing up a storm having chocked from some of the liquor going down the wrong pipe then cringing at the leftover taste bleaching your mouth. Your head feels whoozy, not that the liquor’s kicked in quite yet.

“That tastes like gasoline,” you point to where Billy has white-knuckled the bottle in his hands, making damn sure you don’t pull that move again. It was his fault, though, and the guilt is stalling right beside his mind for the chaos that has yet to come. He was the one pushing your buttons, pressuring you just as much as everybody else, ultimately making you so tired of it to the point of drowning yourself with the rest of his backup bottle of Smirnoff he kept for safekeeping.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. That’s why you gotta sip it!” he runs his fingers through his curls stressfully, having burdened himself with carrying the responsibility of taking care for this poor almost-drunk girl in his car. Of _course_ you’d try overcompensating by downing an outrageous amount and being smug about it. He guessed you’d never drank anything before, or at least that’s the only logical explanation as to why you were surprised at how vile the taste had been. Drinkers often know how shitty the taste is, and use a chaser to get rid of the vomit-inducing touch it leaves.

“You people drink that garbage for fun?” you snort, not understanding the slightest bit of why someone would do that to themselves willingly.

Billy rubs his eyes frustratingly, then safeguards the vodka from your reach as he starts up the engine again and pulls out from where you two were parked.

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t hit you yet. You’ll know why when it does.”

—

Half an hour later, Billy had gotten over the stress of being the one responsible for your drunkenness, now just sitting and listening to the weird shit you’re rambling on about. Of course you’d be a lightweight given your inexperience in the matter, but with how much and in such short time, you were an adorable mess. He thinks it’s sorta cute the way she slurs and jumps from one topic change to the next, such as her opinions on how uninteresting Star Wars is right to how sexy she thinks Corey Haim is. The vastly different ideas mingling together all in one conversation nearly gives the boy whiplash, but he can’t help loving it.

“Oooh, oh! Stop the car. I said stop the car! There’s a lake here, we gotta get out,” you rush, poking the window and even shoving your face up excitedly and fogging it up with your breath.

“Why do we have to—“

“No questions!”

Billy holds his hands up in surrender, not believing that he’s really taking orders from a blasted schoolgirl on her first time ever skipping class. School ended awhile ago, but you’ve yet to mention wanting to go home. Although the teen would like to know you’re getting there safely and not getting into any shit with your parents (if they’re anything like his), he’s still up for granting you your first good time.

Pulling in to the deserted area, Billy puts his Camaro in park and getting out, watching as you fumble to unlock your door and nearly fall out in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head at you with an involuntary grin, then scratches the back of his neck as he wonders just what you’re planning to do here. He then catches you when you’re about to fall for the second time getting out, your palms grabbing at his chest and nearly falling to your knees. A smile has still plastered his expression, unable to keep his poker face at the joy you are when you’re drunk.

“This is your first time drinkin’, isn’t it?” he asks, holding you and keeping you upward because you couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life right about now.

“Whaddya _think_ Popeye? Oh wait, I remember what you think, ‘cuz you told me so! Didn’t it go something like… you’d strongly argue that there’s a giant stick up my ass?” you put your finger to your temple and hum, pretending to think. “Well no one as boring as that would do this!” you exclaim, moving your arms down and doing a drunken cartwheel on the dirty ground. Billy quickly acts, going to pull you back up to stop you from laying down any longer on the gross pavement. When he does, you yank his arms towards where you lay, resulting in him foolishly landing on top of you. You’d yelled _”TIMBER!”_ while he’d let out a squawk sound at your surprising strength.

“Y’know, I think I offically figured out why people drink gasoline so much,” you point out, getting ready to give him your analysis on your liquor consumption.

“It’s Smirnoff actually, but go on,” Billy smiles and waits for you to keep going on yet another drunk tangent.

“It’s b’cause like, I feel the ground moving real fast. I can feel the way that earth is rotating on it’s axis, like what Jameson talked about in class,” you’ve put your palms to the ground as you spewed, putting your ear down as if to listen to it moving. You suddenly picked yourself up, swingy as you quickly lost balance and using Billy’s hand as a way to stay off the floor.

“I already know you think I’m this bogus loser with bogus friends and does nothin’ but bogus homework all the time, but, I think you’re opposite. You’re cool. Too cool for school. You’re this daring dreamboat, this cliché heartthrob that picks on girls and hands them a bottle and says, ’drink up!’” you conclude the statement, slapping his thigh with another roar of laughter tumbling out from your mouth. Everything is so indescribably funny, and you barely ever laugh at anything anymore, so you’re having the time of your life not holding anything in like you usually have to. Billy, in contrast to you, now feels shame creep back up and wants to give you the apology you deserve. Even if there’s a chance you’ll forget all about it because of your drunkenness.

“I um, I’m sorry you know. For pressuring you to take it that far, I was just upset because you wouldn’t hang out with me,” he murmurs, coming back up from the ground and looking everywhere else besides your eyes. You shrug, not finding any deep meaning in anything anymore, crossing your arms.

“Forgiven. Only if you do a little something with me,” you smirk, coming up to him and tugging at his jacket, making Billy draw away from you. He will not do anything with a girl that’s drunk, and that’s a vow.

“C’moooon, who’s the boring old fuck now? Hint hint, it isn’t Jameson! His name starts with capital B and ends in Y!” you snort, barely balancing on one foot as you struggle unlacing your Converse and throwing them off your feet. Next comes you sweater, and now Billy feels like he can’t breathe properly seeing you in your bra and your jeans marching towards the near freezing lake.

“What— uh, Y/N stop, this isn’t right at all, what’re you fucking doing!” he shouts, jogging over to you in a midst panic. You’re grinning like a baby that stole all the candy, not refraining from snaking the rest of your clothes off. Sober you would be absolutely appalled, while drunk you is having a fucking blast. Billy rushes to you and rips off his jacket, covering your nakedness and snapping his head in every direction as to make damn sure no one is witnessing this right now.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Take more off and join me,” you make a come hither gesture with your finger while heading towards the water, before dunking right in. The alcohol has warmed you up, making you completely impervious to the cold wetness. Billy thanks God that he sees your head peak back up from the water, almost shitting himself at the thought of losing you from drowning or the million other things that could go wrong here.

“Hurry it up, Hargrove! Chop chop, water’s feelin’ fucking great out here!” you shout, both your hands making an O-shape around your lips so he could hear you better. Billy shakes his head, deciding that he only lives once, and this is going to be the most wild thing he’s ever done with a girl. Even though he’d been around the block and done some pretty questionable things.

The teen hurried to yank off his jeans and shirt, and stops for a moment to ponder if it’s really smart to keep his boxers on. He hated being a hormonal boy right then, given that his dick had started waking up at the sight of you waltzing around naked and teasing him. He decides that if you, the school’s perfect good girl could hop in the water in your birthday suit, he had to follow your footsteps and do it too.

“We could get arrested for this,” he calls out, shoving his boxers off and folding both yours and his clothes together in one neat pile before joining you in the freezing cold water. He’d swam much more gracefully than you had, watching you doggy paddle over to him and laugh as you jump scare him with a splash of water into his face.

“Jesus, what was that for?” he wipes the water out of his eyes, his dirty blonde mullet now drenched.

“For taking too damn long,” you smile while spitting out some water that had seeped into your mouth. Billy swims closer into your personal space and holds onto your back, extra careful about where his hands lay because of your being utterly exposed to him.

“Okay, I guess this is when I gotta admit that I stand corrected,” he confesses reluctantly, keeping his eyes on yours and refusing to look down any further. You may be drunk and naked and fucking wet right in front of him, but he remains respectful.  
“You’re way more ballsy than I am.”

“That’s right, bitch, and don’t you forget it!” you show off, before swimming away with your back floating on the water.

“Where you goin’ now, crazy?” he asks, trailing behind you. You’ve gotten out now, not giving a shit about drying off and shoving your pants back up, along with stealing his jacket and putting it on over where you just wear your bra. Billy can’t unsee you naked, and he certainly never will forget seeing you in his jacket with almost nothing underneath with his own two eyes. His dick has definetely not reacted kindly to the practically below zero temperature water, but it sure as shit tries going back up because of you.

—

Both teenagers barely dried off still, have taken to cranking up the heat to the point of it being similar to a sauna in his car as you both giggle about what just happened.

“I can’t believe you,” he thinks aloud, still so baffled by your drunken nature and what stupid shit you’re really capable of.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yes, oh-so-crazy one?”

“Remember when I told you, I told’ya I liked all kinds a movies,” you remind him of earlier, and he listens and nods intently, wondering what’s gonna come flying out of your mouth now. “I really do. I cried while watching The Breakfast Club, even When Harry Met Sally. Or Jaws too. Like, all’s movies do is make me cry. Because the characters go and have fun with their friends, or meet someone and fall in love, and I never’ve gotten to do that before. But you’re so fun, and I feel like I got to live in one of the movies today,” you mumble, now having been worn out by the day you’ve had and propping up your arm to the window and resting your head on it.

Billy’s heart and face have flushed to the point of soaring at your confession. He takes on one of his hands off the wheel, keeping one steady on making sure he won’t crash you two, and pets your wet hair and combing his fingers lovingly through.

“Alright, beautiful. Well, I’m glad you had fun, but uh, the truth is that this was all you. You’re hardcore, seriously. It’s pretty bitchin’. But I kinda felt like I lived in a movie today with you too,” he murmurs the last part, still tucking your damp strands behind your ear carefully then gets greeted by the sound of your soft snoring from the passenger’s seat. He chuckles at that, then focuses back on the road. The boy knows this night will always be lodged into his memory, and he’ll never underestimate you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: valiidpunkman !


End file.
